At Home in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to wearing high heels any more and they pinched. Barbara leaned back in the chair. Now she almost felt good enough to smile for real.

      She heard the sound of a pickup door being opened. Apparently, the man was finished with his nap.

      Right then, the door to the barn opened and light spilled out into the darkness.

      “Trouble?” Barbara asked when she looked up and saw the sheriff. She’d given it some thought and had almost decided that the reason the sheriff had been frowning so much was because he had official business somewhere. Maybe his mood had nothing to do with her. Maybe she’d just grown so distrustful of men that she saw betrayal and censure everywhere she looked.

      Yes, that must be it, Barbara told herself in relief. Someone must be in trouble and the sheriff was passing the word along to others who could help. The sheriff seemed always to be working. Even though he was wearing a regular black suit and not his uniform tonight, he was probably still on duty. She supposed a lot of his social evenings were interrupted like this.

      “Trouble? No,” the sheriff said as he let the door close behind him. He stood still for a moment. “Unless you’ve seen something?”

      Barbara refused to be disappointed that the sheriff wasn’t worried about someone else. “Me? What would I see?”

      “Oh, you never know when someone sees something out of the ordinary.” The sheriff walked over to the folding chairs where Barbara sat and stretched out on the chair closest to the barn door. It was six chairs away from Barbara.

      “No, nothing out of the ordinary here.”

      Maybe the sheriff was just worried from habit, Barbara decided. She was glad she had nothing to worry him further. She had noticed that whoever was getting out of the pickup had changed his mind and settled back into the seat. But there was nothing unusual about one of the men around here deciding to take a bit longer with his nap. A lot of them worked hard and were tired. The only thing that was unusual lately was that strange tingling sensation she’d had at the back of her neck. “Has anybody thought of getting a big streetlight around here?”

      “A streetlight? We only have the one street.”

      “I know, but it’s a very dark street—especially at night.”

      “People like it that way. If they get a streetlight, they worry they won’t be able to see the stars.”

      “It could be a small light.”

      The sheriff shrugged. “The county is voting next month on all the business. Bring it up at the town hall meeting we have. See what people think.”

      “Me? Would I go to the meeting?”

      “I don’t see why not. This is where you live, isn’t it?”

      “Yes, but—” Barbara had never voted in a local election before. She’d never been in one place long enough to qualify for anything like that. She’d gotten a library card once, but that was all.

      “There’ll be a vote for sheriff coming up,” he added. “If you’re interested in voting, that is.”

      Barbara was relieved. Whatever was troubling the sheriff, he must not suspect her of anything. He was asking her for something that implied she was almost one of the citizens of Dry Creek. “Well, you can count on my vote—I mean, if I don’t need to own property or anything.”

      “Nope. No property. Just show up at the barn here and vote.”

      Was it really that simple? It wasn’t pouring coffee, but voting had to count for something. Maybe becoming part of life in Dry Creek was possible after all. Barbara felt a rush of enthusiasm at the thought. “I suppose you have a campaign team already lined up?”

      She knew the sheriff was reliable and did a good job. He’d saved a life or two and he’d even tracked her down last fall. She’d heard enough talk around to know he was well thought of in Dry Creek.

      “Campaign?” the sheriff looked startled.

      “Yeah, you know, your campaign to get peoples’ votes. I’m just wondering if you have anyone working on the campaign. I could help pass out flyers or something if you need someone else to help. Just let me know who to talk to about it.”

      There, Barbara thought. It was the perfect place to start. A flyer was worth less than even a plastic plate, so no one needed to trust her with anything. Unless, of course, the sheriff thought she wasn’t good enough to hand out his flyers. Maybe since she’d been married to a criminal, he was afraid that she would taint his campaign.

      Barbara held herself still. “That is, if you want me to work with you?”

      The sheriff felt his collar get tight and he swallowed. He should have worn his uniform instead of this suit. He’d never given any thought to a campaign. People around Dry Creek didn’t need a campaign to know to vote for him for sheriff. For one thing, there was no one running against him. But Barbara didn’t know that, and if she was working on a campaign with him, she’d have to spend time with him. That would keep her away from guys like Pete.

      It would also be easier for him and the FBI to keep an eye on her. Now that he thought about it, it was almost his duty to spend as much time as possible with Barbara Strong.

      The sheriff took a deep breath. “Sure. We could get together for dinner tomorrow night at the café and work out a campaign strategy.” His voice sounded a little strained, but he hoped Barbara wouldn’t notice. He seldom asked a woman out on a date. Not that this was a date. At least, he didn’t think it was. “I’d buy, of course.”

      “Oh, no, I couldn’t let you buy—”

      “No, it would be official campaign business.”

      Barbara pinked up for a moment and then she nodded. “Well, then, yes—I’ll ask Mrs. Hargrove to sit with the children while I step over to the café. But she might not be able to since it’s Saturday night and she needs to get ready to teach Sunday school the next morning.”

      The sheriff couldn’t help but notice how pleased Barbara looked. He could hardly keep his mind on Mrs. Hargrove. He sure wondered if this was going to be a date. But in any case, Barbara was right. They needed someone to watch the children.

      “I’ll talk to Mrs. Hargrove,” the sheriff said.

      “That’s right—I forgot you know her pretty well. She said you fixed her roof a couple of weeks ago.”

      “Just a few shingles. Nothing much,” the sheriff said. He didn’t want to derail the conversation by talking about Mrs. Hargrove’s chores. He knew there had to be a chore on her list that was worth a night’s babysitting even if it was a Saturday night. “Linda has a great steak special going on Saturday nights.”

      “She might agree to let us put some of your flyers in the café, too,” Barbara said.

      The sheriff swallowed. “We sort of need to make a flyer before we can pass it out.”

      Barbara brightened even more at that. “You mean no one’s done a flyer yet? Would it be okay if I worked on that, too? We’ll need a slogan. Something catchy. Something that sets you apart from your competition.”

      The СКАЧАТЬ